


Strange Dinnerfellows

by snsk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All the Shiny Things, Christmas, Crack, Dinner, Fluff, Glitter, Humor, M/M, Meet the Family, Schmoop, Sparkles, Unicorns, have yourself an extremely sparkly christmas, oh there's a unicorn somewhere, the sterek answer to the 00Q one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a unicorn at the dinner table, but Stiles’ dad is too busy interrogating Derek to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Dinnerfellows

There’s a unicorn at the dinner table, but Stiles’ dad is too busy interrogating Derek to notice.

“Pass the sugar,” the unicorn requests. It puts its knife and fork down and looks at Stiles expectantly.

“I didn’t see you come in through the front door,” the Sheriff tells Derek.

“You probably didn’t hear me knocking, America’s Next Top Model was blaring,” Derek says sweetly.

“We don’t have sugar at the Christmas dinner table,” Stiles says in a desperate bid for diversion.

“Savages,” the unicorn comments, which Stiles finds extremely rude because he’s a guest under their roof, hello.

The Sheriff looks like he’s reached a Sudden Revelation. “Are you the reason for Stiles’ sudden need for locked doors at night?”

“I only visit Stiles at night when I require his help,” Derek says truthfully. Which is true, but Derek’s definition of help ranges from there’s a giant man-eating monster roaming the woods! to I need your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock right now, that means now, Stiles.

Stiles thinks this last thought and chokes on his water. Filthy, filthy brain, this is a gen-rated Christmas dinner with the family. The unicorn thumps him on his back, which hurts quite a bit because that’s a sharp solid pink hoof right there. Stiles signals frantically to him to stop it because he’ll have hoof-shaped marks all alongside his spine to match the werewolf-shaped bruises on his hips for a week if this keeps up. The unicorn however takes this as a distressed plea for help and sprinkles some presumably life-saving glitter into Stiles mouth which makes him gasp and lands on his roast beef, making it a sparkly brown.

The Sheriff is busy glaring at Derek and Derek is occupied pretending that he hadn’t fucked Stiles into his mattress and made him come twice two hours before dinner so both of them don’t notice any of this.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” Stiles chokes out.

He carries the treacle pudding into the dining room and mutters “Behave,” at his dad and hisses “You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” to Derek. Which is a blatant lie but he has to keep up appearances.

“He started it,” the Sheriff informs Stiles.

“He’s being mean,” Derek retaliates.

“This pudding is acceptable for consumption,” the unicorn says peaceably which is the nicest thing it’s said about any of the dishes tonight. It’d labelled the roast beef “vile human vermin” and the vege “like common grass, but more raw”.

“Thank you,” Stiles says like the gracious host he is. He sits down next to the unicorn. He supposes it’s not the unicorn’s fault it’s being so grouchy. It’d ended up on this side of the world by accident and currently the doorway to its own world is blocked by a Mercedes Benz outside a cinema, owner probably watching two more hours of The Hobbit inside and warm. It’s missing Christmas dinner with its family. It’s cold and unfamiliar with its surroundings and if it was Stiles Stiles would probably be throwing a big hissy fit right now, or storming into the cinema (all eight halls) and demanding the owner move his big bloody arsed car.

“We have to live by the Handbook for Unicorn Etiquette,” it had informed Stiles primly. “And one of the major Rules is to never disturb another while said other is watching movies about the Middle Earth.”

So Stiles had invited it to Christmas dinner. Because how worse could it get when Derek’s already sitting there in stony silence while the Sheriff goes through every clichéd I-could-kill-you-with-my-eyebrow line he can think of. The Sheriff had taken one look at the unicorn and turned his attention back to Derek like they’re in a death match and who can stare the longest and most intensely wins. Stiles hopes to god Derek doesn’t break up the glowy red eyes. Because then the Sheriff will have to use his I Am Most Disappointed That You Did Not Inform Me About Glowy Red Eyes, Stiles gaze on Stiles and that will be more than super effective and Stiles will just not be able to deal.

“Eat your treacle,” Stiles requests.

Derek stabs at the pudding.

The Sheriff spears a blob of it onto his fork. It falls back with a sad plop onto his plate. The Sheriff ‘s eyes seem to tell Stiles that it’ll be Derek’s innards next if he’s not careful. Derek makes no answering move for the rest of dessert. It’s probably because Stiles is kicking him repeatedly, swinging his legs wild and unbridled under the table.

“Let’s watch the game,” the Sheriff says triumphantly.

“Let’s,” Derek agrees.

“Couldn’t you, I don’t know, sprinkle your magical fairy dust on them? In the spirit of peace and unity and the spirit of the season,” Stiles begs at the unicorn’s feet.

“They both care about you a great deal, you know,” the unicorn says wisely, which doesn’t really help because that’s nice and all but being cared for a great deal won’t prevent Stiles from having to clean up the double bloody murder in the living room.

Stiles sighs. “I just want them to like each other. In a less sappy way than that sounds.”

“Let me help you with the dishes,” the unicorn says instead, and manages to balance four plates on one hoof as it canters into the kitchen.

“What would you be doing now?”

They chat about how the unicorn would be eating the most sumptuous of fairy cakes and drinking the most exquisite of honey and how the humans are a dirty smelly bunch who do not understand the importance of Sparkles, which seems to be a big thing in the unicorn’s world. They finish the washing up and Stiles is asking interestedly about the Queen U and almost forgetting about the stony silence in the living room, until the unicorn’s glittery horn glitters and glows- well, even more than usual.

“Ah,” the unicorn says. “Time to be going.”

They bundle into their coats and scarves and drive to the cinema, the unicorn riding shotgun and making polite remarks about the terrible human weather, what have you been doing to your carbon dioxide levels. They step in front of the portal (a life-sized poster of Life of Pi) and the unicorn says, “Well, goodbye. Thank you for your gracious hospitality. You tried, I suppose. But thank you. I am most grateful. I will remember.” It lays its hooves on Stiles’ shoulders, for a bit. “Merry Christmas, Stiles.”

Stiles is tearing up, which is ridiculous because he is seventeen and he’s only known the dude for a few hours and he should not at all be this upset that the pretty pink unicorn is leaving. But he is.

The unicorn leaves in a puff of purple glitter, which falls like rain onto the pavement, into the poster, and Stiles turns away to conceal a sob into his muffler.

Derek says, “Hey. Oh, Stiles,” and he lets Stiles hide his face into his coat.

The Sheriff watches them for a bit.

“Want to finish up the game?” he asks Derek, when Stiles turns a brave front to the world again.

“Yes, sir,” Derek replies, and they ride back to the house in Stiles’ Jeep while Stiles excitedly tells them all about the recipe for Sparkly Pink Angel Cake With Purple Icing the unicorn’s given him.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> so ANOTHER one with Christmas dinner. Blaming this one on Dylan's face. Unbeta'd, again. Comments are beloved.


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